


Paper Release: Elegant Rising Cranes

by megyal



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU - Freeform, Competence Kink, Gen, Humor, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3100511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Hokage's assistant is a very important post.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paper Release: Elegant Rising Cranes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bratfarrar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bratfarrar/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy this, bratfarrar!! I tried to include the competence!kink, hopefully I did enough. There's a tense change for the second part. Spoilers for the final chapters of the manga! Thank you so much to NP for their betaing; any mistakes remaining is all on me messing about with it!

### I.

The wait outside the offices of the Hokage seems interminable, but Iruka handles it through his stance: chin up, gaze locked in front, arms held loosely behind his back; breath steady and easy, mind as calm as a quiet ocean. He tells himself that he is drawing on deep reserves of patience that he has fostered over the years, but it feels more like a steady sort of apathy. 

He knows the Hokage is currently inside that large room; he does not have to reach far with threadlike tendrils of his own chakra to encounter a solid fortification of force, a great shimmering wall of energy that seems to crackle with quiet lightning and shiver with distant thunder. Iruka struggles to pull back his own chakra, to reel it back into himself. However, the power of a Hokage is magnetic. 

The corridor in which he stands is empty. There are no other doors along the gently curving walls, no other offices at this level. No one rushing from one room to another. Narrow skylights have been built into the ceiling of the corridor, and bright sunlight filters in through heavy, chakra-reinforced glass. The overall effect is as if he is waiting at a temple, and the thought is a comforting one.

"Iruka-sensei," a voice says at his elbow and with a distinct lack of surprise, Iruka turns to look an Anbu standing where there was none five seconds ago. The porcelain mask should be unsettling, but his gaze searches the crimson strokes as he is always wont to do, trying to ascertain if this is the same Anbu he'd argued with in the Sandaime's office so long ago.

This Anbu is not the one he has searched for; the red design on the mask is far more intricate than the one he has engraved in his memory. This Anbu regards him for a long moment, and then simply inclines their head towards the Hokage's door. "You're asked to enter, Iruka-sensei."

Iruka nods and walks to the door, reaching out to grip the handle. A slight current tingles through his fingers, here and gone in the space between two breaths: a manner of identification by the guardian-wards. He pushes open the door and enters into a space that looks as if a pile of exploding tags had gone off in it. Iruka is genuinely aghast for maybe the first time in many long months. The emotion feels like such a surprise; after such a long time of desperate fighting in the War, it sweeps through him like a persistent wind, leaving him standing in shock just inside the door, staring slack-jawed at the deep drifts of scattered paper.

The Hokage stands in the midst of the mayhem, one hand resting on his hip, the other scratching at the back of his neck just under his broad hat. He glances up, and gives Iruka what might be a slightly embarrassed smile.

"Oh, hello Iruka-sensei," the Hokage says pleasantly. "Please excuse the mess."

Iruka opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. There are crates overturned near the walls, empty. Looking at the seals on the wooden slats, he realises that he has sorted these particular set of files before.

"Rokudaime-sama," he finally manages. "Is...can I help you with something?"

Kakashi Hatake looks around himself, tilting his head from one side to another. "I was searching for _your_ personnel file, actually. I think I missed it, somehow."

"Sir--" Iruka starts, and hesitates at the sharp expression in the Rokudaime's eyes. " _Sir_ ," he continues, firmly; he's sure that the Hokage is about to say something ridiculous, like _call me Kakashi_. "If you wish, I can find it. And fix this...er, situation."

Rokudaime steps back towards his desk, stepping lightly over the mess on the hard floor. "If you can, that would be much appreciated."

Iruka holds back a sigh, and clasps his hands together. He begins a short series of hand-signs which will activate a primary set of seals encoded in every single file on the floor. When he feels the 'ready' feedback from the seals, he claps his hands once, to initiate a mundane but necessary sequence.

"Wait, Iruka-sensei," the Rokudaime calls out from where he's seated, his gaze locked on Iruka's hands. "I think I'll have to learn those, so sign clearly."

"Would you like me to repeat the initiating set?" Iruka asks and Rokudaime shakes his head.

"No." He leans back in his chair, steepling his gloved hands in front of his face. The wide sleeves of his cloak slip down his arms, revealing the ends of the fingerless gloves he still insists on wearing, and the folded material of the flack-jacket sleeves. "I still have total recall." At Iruka's rapid blinks, the Hokage's eyes gain an entertained sheen. "I can't decide if it was a talent I always had, or my brain was somehow trained by the Sharingan. Sakura wants to do experiments."

Iruka wants to laugh at the wry note in his voice, but he controls himself. This is the Hokage, the man who ultimately has the task of rebuilding the social fabric of their lives, reweaving the political connections, and organizing awards and punishment. It's all very serious business, and he knows the Rokudaime is a serious man...except there's a little gleam in his dark eyes which seem to indicate otherwise.

"All right, sir." _Pay attention_ , he almost says, as if he's in a class, and then carefully begins the set. He thinks they're incredibly boring, for hand-signs; they're not used in battle at all, but his chakra spirals out of his hands just as willingly as it does in combat, fulfilling the commands of the signs he weaves: _rat_ for general personnel, _rooster_ for all missions ranked below the 'S' level, _dragon_ for sensitive information gleaned from other Hidden Villages and _monkey_ for civilian issues. The files float up like graceful birds on a playful breeze and then whirl into a miniature tornado, right there in front of the Hokage's desk. They begin to accumulate into groups and before long, there are neat stacks climbing up from the floor.

Iruka waits until the last one flutters into place and then walks over, kneeling down in front of the general personnel file. He runs a finger lightly down the side, feeling the thick edges flick against his skin until he gets the tab which indicates that this file is a compilation of occurrences relating to one _UMINO, IRUKA_. It's very thick; the Sandaime had personally kept this one up-to-date, including reports of his wild prankster days.

He pulls out his file and rises, stepping across the now pristine floor to hand it to the Rokudaime.

"That was exciting," the Hokage remarks as he takes the file from Iruka's hand. There are no chairs in front of the desk, and so Iruka returns to his at-ease stance from before, allowing a faint smile to play over his mouth.

"It's just filing, sir," he answers. The Rokudaime raises his eyebrows and places the file on the surface of his desk. He flips it open, but does not look down at the sheaves of paper enclosed within.

"Well, it was exciting to _me_. I wanted to see the infamous technique of _Paper Release: Elegant Rising Cranes_ again. It was as captivating as I remember."

Iruka feels laughter bubbling up behind his lips, for the first time in many weeks. "As I've said, sir: it's just filing."

The Rokudaime lifts one shoulder in a quick shrug. Underneath the heavy white cloths of his Hokage hat and cloak, the movement seems very calculated. "Two questions, Iruka-sensei," he says and Iruka nods; the interview for Hokage's assistant has begun in earnest. "First one: I thought you loved teaching?"

That seems to be very rhetorical, so Iruka decides to stick with simplicity: "I do, Hokage-sama."

There is no request for exposition or clarification. Instead, the next question is fired off in that drawling, soft tone. "Which of the Konoha clans do you think requires my attention the most at this time?"

Iruka thinks for a few moment, and says: "The Yamanaka clan, sir." This time, he continues his response, for the Hokage is giving him a very expectant stare. "Ino and Shikamaru are in similar situations now: both of them are young heads of their clan. However, Ino is going to get far more challenges from within her own clan, because of her gender." He hesitates a little, but the Hokage's expression does not change. "It wouldn't be wise to be overt with your attention, sir...it might backfire and it'll look as if Ino isn't capable. But, probably subtle signs of support would be good."

"Great," the Hokage says and taps one finger on Iruka's file. "That's it."

"That's...what?" Iruka squints at him. Apparently, the trait of being enigmatic is gleaned from some sort of Hokage handbook. "Rokudaime-sama?"

"You've got it. The job as my main assistant, that is." The Hokage peers up at him, the fingers of one hand now splayed wide over the papers in Iruka's file. "When can you start?"

"Today, sir," Iruka says, firmly. He had made all his preparations. He has no intentions of going back to the Academy as a teacher, no matter how that fact stings. The Hokage stares at him as if he has done numerous calculations in his head, multiple times, and the answer continues to be 'Iruka'. Then, the Rokudaime inclines his head to one side, indicating a door on the left side.

"That's your office, then. The Head Teacher will miss you sorely. I've already received a very long memo of complaint." The Rokudaime rocks slowly from side to side in his comfortable chair, still staring at Iruka's face. "Then again, you'll get a considerable rise in rank. Is that some sort of motivation for you?" His dark gaze is very attentive.

"The pay increase is great," Iruka admits with a grin. "But I feel I can do more for Konoha right now at this level," Iruka tells the Hokage. "I have the knowledge and...and the drive." That last bit is not quite true; at least, up until the few moments before he had entered the Hokage's office, he had felt so tired. The War had drawn so much out of him, out of everyone. Even Naruto's smiles have been quite strained. Now, looking in the Rokudaime's face and feeling the sheer press of his power, he is filled with hopeful determination.

He wants to help this man; he wants to be by his side as he pulls Konoha out of that spreading lethargy. Iruka believes that the Rokudaime is a dedicated individual, despite his outward nonchalance...but the cost will be great. As his assistant, Iruka will make sure that he will not pay the price alone.

"I'll start arranging your daily schedule, sir," Iruka tells him. "If you've been having too many meetings recently, we'll need to do some reorganization to give you some rest-days. You'll need them," he insists, for the Hokage's face gains an obstinate tinge. "If necessary, I'll ask Sakura and Naruto to catch you and sedate you."

The Rokudaime scowls at him from behind the ever-present mask. "I may have to fire you right now."

"You won't, sir. If you'll excuse me?" Iruka angles himself slightly towards the door to the smaller office that he had once known so well, waiting for permission to be dismissed. At the Hokage's nod, he takes a step towards his working quarters and then pauses, turning back. "I have two questions of my own, sir, if you don't mind. And one bit of advice."

"Go ahead...but only if you promise that you'll call me Kakashi." The Hokage is now looking down at Iruka's file, one fist braced against his cheek, the other hand idly flipping through the papers. At least, the action _looks_ very idle; Iruka can see the speedy movement of his eyes.

"Kakashi-sama," Iruka says as a compromise and the Hokage sighs. "You said you _remembered_ the Elegant Rising Cranes technique. Only the Hokage's assistants use it, and as far as I remember, there's rarely anyone around when...when we do." His voice trails off as a memory from years ago filters in: a low voice with sharp edges saying _are you sure? He's kind of uncontrollable, isn't he_ and he lets out a dazed breath.

The Rokudaime continues to read as if Iruka's file is an issue of _Icha Icha_ he has been through before. "Is that one of the questions?" he asks, languidly. "Doesn't sound like one. Neither does it sound like any sort of advice."

Iruka shakes his head and gazes at the Rokudaime Hokage, trying to mentally superimpose a mask over that face...a full one, one of porcelain painted white and red.

"Never mind, sir. The advice is this: try to keep your chakra a bit closer to you. It's...a little distracting. In an enticing kind of way, I mean." Iruka replays what he has just said, and because he is a fully grown shinobi, he does not blush. However, it is a very close thing.

Kakashi-sama's entire body goes completely still for a few long breaths. Then, he lifts his head and looks right into Iruka's face; the gaze feels surprisingly intimate.

"My apologies," he says, very softly. "It's hard for me to gauge the spread of my chakra these days. The Sharingan used up quite a bit, even when it was covered. Now I have a lot more than I know what to do with." He shrugs again, and Iruka can sense the careful retreat of his power, a tugging over his skin. It feels like a very gentle stroke of a battle-scarred hand. "Better?" 

"Yes, sir." Iruka swallows, because he can't tell the Rokudaime that despite his advice, he now misses the sensation of his chakra shimmering all around. "Second question: did you toss all those files all over the place just to see me do that filing jutsu?"

"Don't you have my agenda to organize, Assistant Iruka-kun?" Kakashi-sama shoots back and _now_ Iruka laughs as he makes his way to his own office; the Hokage never promised he would _answer_ those particular questions, anyway, but Iruka now knows something even more important. He is resolved, now: he has work to do, a memo of complaint to file and a political calendar to arrange; meetings to plan, academic portfolios to go over, arguments with civilian contractors and elders to fend off as the Hokage does his very important work. 

After all, he is the Hokage's assistant.

### II.

Iruka Umino stormed into the office of the Hokage's assistant, his face wrenched into a stormy expression. There were two desks in that relatively small room: a very large one that was positioned in front of the back wall with the wide window, paper and writing implements neatly lined up on one side of the polished surface. A smaller desk had been placed at right angles to the larger one, facing the door; the top of this one was a riot of parchment and half-empty ink-pots, wild handwriting dominating the paper in thick, jagged black lines. The man seated behind the larger desk glanced up from the stack of petitions in his hand as Iruka stomped inside the room. A dark eyebrow lifted in his narrow face as Iruka flung his book-bag onto the smaller desk and then threw himself into the accompanying chair. Thin arms folded over his scrawny chest, Iruka sunk into an impressive pout, lips jutting out at a nearly improbable distance from his face. A bruise mottled the skin of his left cheek, and his clothing seemed more untidy than usual.

Hayama Shirakumo, the Sandaime's assistant currently on duty, ventured a greeting: "Hello, Iruka-kun. How was school today?"

There was no verbal response, except that Iruka's scowl grew even more pronounced. Hayama gazed at him, deeply amused but attempted to hide it behind an impassive expression. However, the scarred right side of his mouth twitched in a repressed smile. The Sandaime Hokage had set up a sort of 'programme' for the little hellion, one of many attempts to keep the boy out of trouble. There were many orphans left by the Nine-Tail's attack over a year ago, but Iruka seemed to be the one most intent on general mayhem. Sandaime's solution had been to keep Iruka close at hand...as a sort of junior assistant. 

Hayama and the other two Hokage's assistants had been doubtful of this particular method of intervention, especially after thirteen consecutive days of pranks in the administrative offices at the very start of Iruka's occupancy. There were still some personnel to this day who shuddered at the sight of fish. Despite the complaints, the Hokage had insisted on patience and kindness from all his staff towards the boy, even implying in his sly way that if trained shinobi couldn't deal with the admittedly brilliant schemes of one Academy student, then they might benefit from a few sessions of extra training.

For his part, Hayama could see the wisdom of the Hokage's actions. There were quite a few members of staff who remained convinced that the boy was destined for a life as a missing-nin; but, for those who spent more than a few hours in Iruka's presence, they discovered that behind that abrasive bravado was a person hungry for attention. He had a very sharp brain, that Iruka-kun, and he had caught on very easily with all the different tasks required. The assistants had even taught him a few code systems required for protecting the transmission of intelligence; probably not such a good idea, in the scheme of things, but those codes were not high-level ones, anyway. Iruka had been delighted at being entrusted with such information, and the look on his face had been well worth any potential trouble.

Now, Hayama returned to his perusal of the petitions. He knew Iruka well enough that to press for any explanation of his bad mood was to welcome some sort of temperamental blast in the direction of the individual innocently asking what was wrong; so he kept his peace. Iruka would share in about...five, four, three, two--

"I _hate_ Iwashi and Tonbo's stupid faces!" Iruka burst out and subsided into low mutters. Hayama noted with a little alarm that Iruka was currently _plotting_ a new prank, and he felt a pang of sympathy for the victims.

"Hate is a very strong word, Iruka-kun," he chided, placing the petitions atop his neat desk. "Why would you hate your classmates?"

"They called me _Hokage's Pet_ ," Iruka snarled, reaching out with jerky movements and seizing some of the papers on his desk with both hands, crushing them in his small fists. "They said I was a goody-ninny! But I punched them both in their faces," he concluded with great satisfaction, a nasty smile curling under his scarred nose. "Punched them real good, too."

"Congratulations," Hayama said, very drily. "Glad you got that out of your system. Maybe you can hold off the prank?"

The hard glimmer in Iruka's dark eyes was a sure indicator that _one_ , his system was _not_ currently cleared of any outrage and _two_ , the prank was probably well into the final stages of planning and implementation. The boy had a talent, Hayama thought; pity he used it for evil and not good. To distract him, Hayama jerked his chin towards the mess on Iruka's little desk.

"Clean that up," he said, putting a note of command into his voice. Surprisingly, Iruka-kun responded quite well to that. "Do you remember the technique we showed you?"

"Yes," Iruka said, focusing on the messy pile. Hayama had showed him the filing technique a few days ago, saying it was a special secret jutsu only known by the Hokage's assistants. Iruka had laughed a bit cynically at that statement, but he had spent many hours placing the proper seals on his papers as practice. The boy's expression sharpened as he initiated the jutsu, and then fired off the other sequences with careful movements. The papers fluttered up into the air around his head, trembling under the influence of his immature chakra, and then spun into a beautiful diminutive cyclone for a few seconds. The enjoyment on Iruka-kun's face made him seem far younger than he was right now, and as the papers stacked themselves properly, he sat back in content and grinned at Hayama.

Pleased, Hayama was just about to congratulate Iruka on a job well-done, when he felt as if sharp needles of ice traced a blood-chilling path from the nape of his neck all the way down his spine. He turned to look at the open doorway, eyes widening slightly at the presence of an Anbu at the threshold. From the markings on the mask, this was the Hound Anbu. Hayama found most of those operatives to have an unsettling aura, but to him, Hound seemed to carry a darker air than most.

Quite possibly, Hayama was simply transferring an unpleasant association based on a recent conversation with the Sandaime himself. About a week ago, Hayama had entered the Hokage's office after being summoned, and had halted at the sight of the Hound Anbu standing in front of Sandaime's desk. There was nothing outwardly threatening about the Hound's stance, nor did the Hokage seem particularly perturbed. Yet, Hayama sensed tension shimmering in the air and he had looked from one to the other, the skin between his eyebrows furrowing in concern.

Sandaime's rheumy gaze had fixed on him. "Ahh, Hayama. I suppose it's time for my updates? Dismissed," he said in an offhand manner to the Anbu, who had offered a quick bow.

"Hokage-sama," Hound murmured and had disappeared in a flicker of dark material. As soon as he had departed, the Hokage had pulled in a deep inhale and let out a tired sigh.

"Sir?" Hayama had asked, approaching the desk carefully. Sandaime seemed so very brittle at that moment. "Is… are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Sandaime said, his tone firm but his expression drawn. He fell silent, staring at the top of his desk. His broad hat threw a dense shadow over his skin, making his wrinkles appear even deeper than usual. "He blames me," the Hokage finally muttered, and his shoulders slumped.

 _Who blames you? For what_? Hayama wanted to ask, but one of his greatest talents was knowing when to keep silent. The Hokage closed his eyes.

"He blames me for not allowing him to aid his master," Sandaime said quietly, as if to himself. "Possibly, I deserve to be the target of such bitter hurt. I only wanted to protect them, you see? For even I could not protect his master."

Hayama knew that the job of Hokage was onerous and relentless in its demands. A Hokage needed to make decisions that no one else could, and it weighed so heavily on the head of the person chosen to wear the hat and cloak. 

"Sir," Hayama said, feeling helpless and the Hokage's eyelids had fluttered open. He gave Hayama a small, tight smile.

"The updates, Hayama?" he had queried and that had been the end of that.

Now, this same Hound Anbu stood in the office of the Hokage's assistant, regarding him and Iruka with that inanimate composure. The Hokage was not in office at the moment, and so administrative protocol indicated that messages of a certain level of security be relayed directly to the assistant on duty. Hayama wondered just how long the Anbu had been standing there.

"Anbu-san," Hayama managed to say. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Hayama-san," the Anbu returned, voice modulated in a eerie fashion from behind the mask. "I have a message from operatives near Otogakure. The message requires a double-alpha decoding to break the seal."

 _Double-alpha_ meant that only the Hokage would be able to do that by himself, but it required the expenditure of a lot of time and energy; if not, two of the assistants would be able to do it at the same time. Hayama went through some quick considerations in his head and then came to a decision: he would break the seal so that the Hokage wouldn't have to spend too much time doing that, and then have the Anbu deliver it right to the Hokage's home. If it was as urgent as he suspected, then he had no time to call up Kosuke Maruboshi or Yoshino Nara, the other two Hokage's assistants. Hayama stared at Iruka, who was blinking at the Anbu with curiosity. Iruka had been taught one of the sequences which would be required for a double-alpha decoding. Hayama was confident that he could do it.

"I will break it now," Hayama told the Hound. "Iruka-kun here will help."

"Me?" Iruka said with breathless excitement, even as the Anbu's face slowly turned towards the boy, the movement slow and deliberate.

"The Hokage entrusts such information to a child," Hound stated, his flat tone managing to convey condemnation and disbelief at the same time. Hayama could _feel_ Iruka bristling and braced himself.

"I can do it!" Iruka yelled, actually jumping to his feet with his fists clenched, eyes bright with determination. If Iruka had one thing in spades, Hayama thought dazedly, it was sheer nerve. "Besides, you're not that older than me anyway! Anyone can tell you're still a kid, you jerk...look at you, behind that mask!" He paused, as if stunned at his own presumptuousness, eyes wide. The Anbu regarded him as if Iruka was a new but not particularly impressive technique, head now tilted to one side. Iruka drew a deep breath, and then barrelled on anyway, because Iruka never did anything by halves. "And so what if the Hokage trusts me with stuff? He's got good reasons to trust me!"

"Iruka-kun--" Hayama began in a strangled tone, but the Anbu cut off his exasperated lecture before it could even start.

"Are you sure, Hayama-san?" The Anbu asked, even though he still had his face turned towards Iruka. "He's kind of uncontrollable, isn't he?"

"I'm sure," Hayama said over Iruka's annoyed grumbles. "Please hand over the message, Hound-san."

"Yeah," Iruka said, sharp as a kunai; his brown eyes were slitted with determination. "I'm a junior assistant to the Hokage! Gimme the stupid message."

The Anbu stood very still, and then shrugged. He reached into his left sleeve and pulled out a tightly rolled scroll, tossing it in the air towards Iruka.

"Here you go," he said in that very colourless tone, and Iruka snatched the scroll out of the air. He turned towards Hayama, his jaw set.

"You do the _boar_ code," Hayama told him. "I'll take the _serpent_. You must start at the same time as I do, and end the same time."

"I understand," Iruka gritted out, and proceeded to execute a flawless decoding boar sequence, timed beautifully to Hayama's movements. If his teachers could see him now, Hayama mused, they would probably faint in shock. The seal emitted a faint 'click' to indicate that it was now open, and Iruka turned back to Hound, holding out the scroll.

"Please deliver that to the Hokage, Anbu-san," he said in his snootiest voice and Hayama rolled his eyes. "Thank you for your service."

"Thank you, Junior Assistant Iruka-kun," the Anbu said in a very serene manner, but Hayama got the distinct impression that he was _amused_. He stared at the Anbu, who dipped his head slightly in response and then departed in a rush of wind. Hayama turned his shocked gaze on Iruka, but the boy was seated at his desk, hands behind his head, an extremely smug expression on his face. Hayama wondered if Iruka was aware of what had happened just now: that this brash idiot of a prankster had managed to entertain, if only for a brief moment, one of the most grim agents currently in rotation. Possibly...he had done even more. One could only hope. 

"I showed him, didn't I?" Iruka said in a gloating manner. Hayama was torn between reaching over to smack him at the back of the head, and ruffling his hair. "Wait 'til Iwashi and Tonbo hear about _this_."

Hayama sighed in fond exasperation, and went back to work.

_fin_


End file.
